


Day one

by Sice13



Series: The Moth and the Stag [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Discord: Valastor Appreciation Club, M/M, Other, Valastor-Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25731193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sice13/pseuds/Sice13
Summary: This is the first part of -Valastor-week- Day one. My headcanon how this whole AlastorXValentino-disaster could start. Not the first meeting, but the first real interaction with each other. Some blood, some gore, some light form of torture -you will see what I mean XP.
Relationships: Alastor & Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Moth and the Stag [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866445
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Day one

**Author's Note:**

> First things first - @DressedFully -Thank you for your help and the beta-reading. <3 I am so thankful; I know my grammar sucks.
> 
> @HuntingPeople -your works suck my right into Valastor like a damn black hole, and I could not be happier XD
> 
> This is my first project in years -being an adult Is fun and the free time overwhelming -_____-, but far more critical, this is my first project ever in English.

His best friend, a partner in crime and the fastest Wifi-connection in Hell lies in front of him, shred to pieces, linked to his workbench and server, and Val can feel something twisting in his guts.

Guilt? Because he doesn’t help Vox in his fight against the Deer demon? No.

Anger? Since the start of their work relationship, he had made it clear that he will not fight the god-damn Radio Demon so long there is no valid reason. And the sensitive pride of the TV-Demon was not a good reason at all. No.

Fear? Alastor maybe doesn’t have the official title of ‘Overlord,’ but he is more than capable of destroying everything the Moth demon had built with his own four hands. No, thank you.

At least -thanks to his work- there is nothing in his turf that could get Alastor’s attention. He has nothing to offer, which should be a fucking blessing, but why does it feel like a damn hex?

He knows this hot and cold knot in his guts, the temperatures radiate through his whole body. So right and yet so wrong.  
With a deep growl, he rubs one of his hands over his face, the pink glasses held by another one.

**DAMN, ALASTOR IS HOT.**

He should not think this at all. Alastor is the arch-enemy of his best friend, but still. Shit.

And to be honest, Val thought this long before he started working with Vox, So...Al was the first one on his mind. And now thanks to Vox, he had far more encounters with the Deer as a sort of enemy, jeez. He still doesn’t fight Alastor, but he scratches Vox occasionally from the street. Like the cat-demon does for the Stag. What was his name Hush or Husk?

Some lights change, and a low buzz left the air vibrating. Vox doesn’t heal traditionally; his body rebuilds himself. Less blood and pain, but it took more time until he rebooted, and he was without protection in this state. So, with nothing better to do, Val leans back, and with a flip, a lit cigarette appears in his claws, and his mind flows back to the fight.

And what a fight it was! The pair destroyed four whole blocks - not on his turf, so who cares? The air was full of harsh static, full of deep buzz and the smell of ozone.

Dark red against bright blue.

Every move, every dodge, and every attack was beautiful—a bloody dash, in scarlet-red. The Radio Demon has skills, wits, and never -not for a single second- bows down.

Vox loves to be the middle of it all, but Alastor is a born entertainer. His elegant moves, his chippy comments, it was all so flawless. He never has to think of a good line; they come by nature. Vox was crasser; under pressure, he uses simple insults and threats. Nothing that could harm Alastor or his pride, and this drives Vox wild. Too wild. He got sloppy, like a damn cartoon villain, monologues, and misses his chance to hit. Al never misses his.

Since their short partnership in the past broke apart -because the bloody boxhead tried to stab Alastor in the back- they would always fight. Sometimes just with sharp words, sometimes by sabotaging the work of the other, like blocking some signals or destroying whole antennas and sometimes by simply ripping each other apart.

So now after every battle, Vox would be bitching like a damn schoolgirl that he will destroy Bambi the next time for good. No more games, no more losses. Valentino would never admit this, but he fears the day Vox speaks the truth because when this day comes, Val will have to choose.

Stopping his best friend or letting his secret crush die.  
Shit.

Smoke fills his lungs, and after a long breath, the whole room is hazy too. He shouldn’t smoke, at least not here, it’s bad for the technology, but he doesn’t care. 

Was Alastor all right? Vox had a few good hits on the deer, and there had been so much blood, thick and black like ink. He was still standing and, of course, always smiling, yet Valentino saw the intense exhaustion. The fine tremor and shaking claws all covered up with a roll of his shoulders and the stretching of his back. He’d put both hands on his mice -not for support, only to stand comfortably, of course. Never show your weakness in Hell, never even hint it’s a possibility. Not to your enemies or friends.

The Moth just snatched the puzzle called Vox from the crushed ground and threw him in his limo to drive off. In the mirror, he saw the Deer vanish into one of his portals.

His phone starts buzzing, so he opens one red-eye and blinks at the bright screen. With an irritated sound, he put his glasses back on and rereads the text and answers.

“Heyho Mister Moth! I’m guessing you need a break. I will take care of Flatscreen-Baby. <3”

“Are you sure? He is still offline, so not much to do here, Sweetie.” 

“Still off? I will just link my phone then, watch some films over his screen. XD”

“You know how much he hates that. Says he can’t get them out of his mind.” 

“Exactly! We will watch My little pony together, and after that, he can sing all the songs with me! <3”

The Pimp crushes the finished cigar in his hand and drops it to the ground. This would be fun, a childish punishment for a little brat. Perfect.

After 30 minutes, he switches with the short demoness and flees the room, running before the first note of the intro blasts through the whole television tower.

He should head back to his studio, but for some reason, he gives the driver a different route.  
One good thing about the Radio Demon, it is easy to check on him. The Pimp smooths himself on the large, comfy bank in the back and starts a new cigar. With another claw, he pushes a hidden button under the seat, and the car radio jumps to life. 

The relaxed drag of smoke caught in his lungs, and a searing pain burns through his whole body followed by a harsh cough.

There was **NO** music, none, just static and white noise. **SHIT!**

Over the last decades, Val had learned to “read” the radio and so, therefore, Alastor’s mood. And never, not a single day was there silence. Sometimes a chipper song, sometimes just instrumental jazz. Even on a really terrible day, there was still something like elevator music… but never, ever nothing.

Val switches and sits on the edge of the seat, two hands clawing the violet pillow, and his magenta teeth grind with a low growl. The cigar found itself in the ashtray, and with a second button, the Pimp speaks to his driver. 

“Let me out and drive back to the studio.”  
“Jawohl, Sir.” 

The long legs of the Moth leave the even more extended limo, and with a little growl, the demon straightened his back and summoned one of his many canes. With a wide grin and a quiet hum, the Pimp began to walk. His facade has to be carefree, never would he allow a damn sinner to see his troubled mind. He is a powerful Overlord, **THE** Pimp - he doesn’t care for others and explicit not for someone like the Radio Demon. No way!

Thanks to his high Valentino is a fast walker, every step is escorted with clicks of black heels and the cane’s tip. Some sinners greet him, some flee to the other street side, but the most feedback is positive. His studio is one of the most significant workplaces in Hell, a safe island on extermination day, and entertainment for the folk. So long no one crosses his lines, he has no reason to be unnecessarily cruel. Happy clients always come back, and this brings the money in. 

A few minutes later, the streets changes, no more red- or neon lights. No hookers at the street, less scum, and over this all stands a tall and proud dark tower. With its many antennas, the building looks like it were a crone. Impressive. 

Val could barely suppress a little moan. This building was so like his master - powerful, dark, threatening, and...broken?

His steps came to a harsh stand, and the pink glasses glare at the open gate and the busted front door. Ah-Shit.

His claws grip tight on the cane, and with a hidden switch, a long blade jumps out of the tip. Not a holy knife, but damn sharp enough. 

Slowly he enters the ground, he knows for sure, that Alastor has some traps and surprises hidden, there was no way his home wasn’t protected. Or not? The demon couldn’t sense any magic at all. That was bad, someone had destroyed every protection ward, or was Alastor too weak to hold them up? Was he already dead? A terrible cold floods the Pimp’s body, and he shooks his head hard. His antennas start to twitch wildly, and a strong smell hit the Moth - blood. Of course. 

At the busted front door was fresh blood and so much of it, but it was red—ordinary, dull red blood. Valentino mentally counted to three and pushed the door further open, only to see nothing. The room behind was filled with pitch-black darkness. The Moth removed his iconic glasses with a flic and gives himself a few seconds to adjust his magenta eyes to the shade. 

His steps are astonishing silent, not a single sound reveals his presence. Here and there lays some more blood, gun holes in the walls and something big crashed through the ceiling. Maybe one of Alastor’s eldritch friends? He finds some boiling puddles; certain this had to be a demon somehow. Others there ripped apart or crushed, but how many had entered the Radio Tower?

At the stairs, he finds not only more blood, still warm but also some feathers. Red ones. Alastor’s feline friend has wings. So he was fighting here, too? Good. This meant the Deer wasn’t alone after all.

There is only one way to find out. Without a single sound, the Pimp climbs the stairs and listens a moment on every new level. Nothing. Just more blood and broken feathers. And-

**“RAAAAWAR!”**

Valentino’s blood became like ice at this moment. This roar, this scream -full of pain and wrath- let the whole building shake to his core.

With a breathless curse, the Pimp hurries and reach the last level. He stops his steps and walks slow further into the floor.

There stood Alastor -in all this primal glory- long claws and sharp teeth in a muzzle leaking with fresh blood, his eyes like dials, the air full of harsh static and a painful white noise. His red fur riddled with gun holes, deep cuts, and soaked up from his own blood, leaking at a thick puddle under his hoofs.

In front of him are three unknown demons, hurt but with a confidence, no one should have had in this situation. But they have got an ace in their hands. 

The cat.

Alastor’s friend lays motionless at the ground, at his throat a spear -a holy spear. Two others near his head.

From his position, Valentino cannot see how bad the cat is hurt, but it would make no difference -one stab with these weapons, and he is gone for good.

The body of the Deer demon tenses, he makes a step, but -

“Ahaha -don’t move, or he is dead. We will leave him alone. There is no need to kill him. We want just your head.” 

Alastor growls deep but doesn’t move further. His voice was ruff and horse, and Val could hear the pain and the rasps in every breath.

“Is this a deal, he will be safe?” 

“Sure, I just need your pretty head on this nice stick. This will be more than enough to become an Overlord myself.” 

The flipping dials lock on the tip at Husker’s neck. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and merely nods.

“So shall it be.” 

Alastor’s claw starts to glimmer green, and Valentino could feel the strong magic even from his position. Husk would be saved; there is no way to break a deal like this.

The wannabe Overlord smiles at the glow and lets go of Husk’s neck, but there were still two more, too risky to take action for Alastor. So he allows the demon to come to him, watches him raise the free hand for the shake. 

A shake that would save Husker and kill Alastor, not on Valentino’s watch!

The deer blinks, puzzled as blood splashes on his face.

Three loud bangs and three bodies hit the floor, skulls entirely gone and so much fresh blood and splatter brain on the ground.

Slow, hands up so that the other demon could see them, Valentino enters the now quiet room. His guns are still smoking.

“It’s okay, Bambi, I’m not here to harm ya.” 

With his claws, the Deer cleans his eyes from the gore, his ears alert and pointed at the Moth.

“Why should I trust you? You are, unquestionably, an ally of Vox.” 

“But I never did something to ya, did I? Let me help, please.” 

Alastor narrows his eyes, Valentino asking for permission to help him? Never would the Deer believe something like that. On the other hand, he was still standing, and the three youngsters were not. Even he couldn’t deny that the Pimp’s voice was heavy with concern.

“I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly fine and had this whole situation under control. All fine and dandy.” 

The Moth flicked his hands, and all his claws were empty. No more weapons. No reason to argue with the Radio Demon. Alastor would rather die on the spot than to admit that he needs help. And even a hurt Deer demon was more than capable of tearing the Moth into bloody pieces, just to maintain his reputation. So, another way has it to be.

“Maybe ya’re fine, but how ’bout the pussy-cat?” 

Husk was still not moving, and now, Valentino could see why. The poor fellow had taken a deep shotgun wound through his back. Mean and nasty, but he would regenerate and be fine in a few days or weeks.

Slowly Val walks over the two dead demons, with his foot, he pushes the spears aside -just to jerk back when a dark tentacle caught them and threw them right into the abyss. The same happens with the last one near Alastor, and the Radio Demon dropped his claws, the red glowing already fading. 

His breath was short and tight. Valentino could see the sweat on Alastor’s face, the dark shadows under his eyes -which had finally returned to his usual bright red. His whole appearance reverted back from the primal beast to his more human form. The tremor is more potent than even after the fight with Vox, and the blood is still dripping on the black ground. Alastor must be nearly bled out by now. There is no way he could have so much liquid in this small frame.

The static in the air fails, and Valentino could see how hard the Deer is fighting not to lose his consciousness. A lost battle. The thick static dies, and Alastor falls to the ground.

The Pimp jumps with a curse on his lips to catch the smaller figure before he could hit the floor.  
With a surprised grunt, Val holds the crashed demon and lays him gently down.

“Damn...how can a twiggy guy like ya be so damn heavy?” 

\----------------------------------------------------------

With a low growl, Alastor opens his eyes and scans his surroundings -his bedroom. Good. What had happened after the last fight with Vox? He was back at his tower, and Husk was cursing and drinking like his second life depended on it, but at least he went down to fetch the first-aid-kit...and then?

Alastor rubs his hands over his pale face, his try to remember interrupted as the bedroom door opens. The deer’s ears twitch at the sound, but the demon doesn’t look-up.

“Please tell me you have the biggest mug of the blackest coffee with you, my dear Friend.” 

“Of-”

As soon as the first word try to leaf his lips, Valentino found himself crashes to the ground, above him the Radio Demon -all static and dials- and the horrible sharp teeth way too close to his own throat. His claws are digging right into his upper shoulders, shredding his cloak. As a wonder, the coffee mug is still in his left hand and had only sloshed half of the black gold.

**“WHY ARE YOU HERE!?”**

“Because I saved ya busted ass, Bambie. Ya and that of ya friend, remember?” 

Val speaks with a quiet voice, no reason to startle Alastor even more. He could see the foggy memories coming back to the deer.

“...the tower was under attack. But why should you help me at all? We are enemies... Pimp.” 

Off tone the distaste was clear to hear in Alastor’s voice, and his claws were digging deeper, breaking the Moth’s skin.

“Did ya really think I would like to hear Vox bitching a century over some losers who were capable of stealing his kill?” 

Val hisses in pain as the claws tuck through his flesh, and he could feel the heat of his own blood dripping down his arms.

**“The truth Moth, my patience is already rather short.”**

Those golden teeth snap close, barely an inch away from his blue skin, and Valentino could feel the hot breath and smell of the blood on his tongue.

For a second, Valentino goes stiff as a plank in fear, only to lay his head back to the ground and swallow hard, his red eyes pinning a point at the ceiling.

“...because I was worried Alastor, and even then, this ends in my final death...jeez.” 

He levels his look at the dials, and his voice only a subtle whisper.

“I have a huge crush on ya, okay? Fine...now it’s out. Ya may kill me now or let me stand up. Ya little jump broke a stitch or two -ya wounds all bleeding again.” 

Alastor never likes this cliche, but he stands like a damn deer in the headlights after this confession, only to look for himself down to the bandage, which is getting more soaked with every passing moment.

He was not moving, but at last, the harsh static fades and his eyes normal again. Val loves those eyes, the deep red, and he never thought that to see Alastor so confused would be so...cute. His fluffy ears twitch restlessly, and then he was back up. At least enough to have some space between teeth and throat. 

“Where is Husker?” 

“Still down. He will be fine, just give him a week or two. So...can I get up or do ya prefer to bleed any longer all over me? Not that I will complain, it’s nice to have ya all over me.” 

Far harsher than necessary, the Deer took his claws out of the Pimp and stood up, legs slightly shaking.

“Give me a good reason why I should not kill you right now, Valentino.” 

With a huge grin, the Pimp holds the still hot mug in the air.

“Fair enough.”

Alastor snatches the coffee and sits back on his bed, his look still on the taller demon. A brow arching.

“You are hurt.”

Now, without Alastor on him, the Moth could get up and hold his lower left hand upper. Bandaged and at least three claws are missing.

“I thought it would be a good idea to play some music, ya know. Show the folks that everything is alright. The radio was not a friend of this idea. Lucky me, I have plenty more to use.” 

He wiggles his other claws with a toothy grin and walks to the nightstand to the already used first-aid kit.

“I would have loved to see this, that’s a performance. She is a little shy with strangers and sometimes a beast. You must be patient and gentle with her.” 

“Oh, I will just show ya how patient and gentle I can be.” 

Alastor winced at the low purr and glares daggers to the other demon who held his hands up in an apology gesture.

“Sorry...I will try to cut the smooth talk to a minimum. But I have to touch ya, is that okay for ya?” 

The tense body of the Deer seemed to scream -NO- but with a little nod, he lays back down on his bed. Dismissing the empty mug with a flick back to the kitchen.

“The sooner this is over, the better -for both of us. Tell me, Valentino, what did I do to earn this...crush of yours?” 

Alastor’s lazy eyes follow every move of the careful claws. With a chuckle, the Pimp starts to remove the old, bloody bandage and clean the deep cut with alcohol and a sterile cloth from the kit.  
Alastor’s body sometimes shifts, unsure of the pain or the touch itself. Every movement of the Moth stays slow, and in his low voice, he informs the Deer over the steps so as not to startle him. The eyes behind his huge-pink glasses wander over the small body and the scars -so many of them. Here and there they were old, that could the Pimp see. His face must have shifted because Alastor’s next word there...uneasy?

“Or is this enough to change your mind already?” 

The Deer didn’t look at the Pimp, but his smile was crooked.

“What? No. Not at all! I think these scars are amazing, absolutely stunning.” 

Alastor’s eyebrows move up, but there was only silence for a moment. Silence and his own static.

“Even if I will sound like a damn schoolboy in his teens. Ya’re absolutely amazing, handsome, proud, skillful, funny, murderous. Ya a freigeist like no other demons. Ya do whatever ya will, just for ya own entertainment. Ya bow ya head for nobody... Ya charming...the first time I heard ya voice other the radio...I was head over heels in love. And I’m still. I -”

His ramble gets interrupted by a short laugh from the Deer, and his claws clench for a moment. His eyes lock at the wound, not into the deep red ocean of Alastor’s. He doesn’t want to see the humor or, worse, the disgust.

“Love, dear? A little more than just a crush, it seems.” 

A claw found it’s way under Valentino’s chin, and a shiver goes through his whole frame, as Alastor makes him see into his own face. His glare glowing crimson and the smile powerful, but without mockery and Valentino could feel how his blood rushes to his head, painting his blue skin violet. 

“Interesting. I never thought I would have this kind of power over someone else -in particular, someone like you... Pimp.” 

This time he speaks the word soft and his thumb strokes over the Moth’s cheek. Valentino closes his eyes, leans into the warm feeling, a shiver running through his tall figure.

“This is hell...maybe ya my personal punishment?” 

Eyes still closed, too afraid the moment would be over as soon he looks at the Radio Demon, burst like a bubble.

“Your personal punishment… that sounds interesting enough to give it a try, Dear.” 

The sharp claw on his chin guides the Moth closer to the Deer. Alastor’s smile grows as he sees the hard swallow from the Pimp.

“And the fact that this game with you would drive Vox crazy is more than entertaining too.” 

That voice, deep and smooth like dark chocolate, so close to Valentino’s face. He could feel the hot breath and smell the black coffee. Damn, he wants to taste the Deer so bad it hurts. 

“Even if ya will give...us a try, just to hurt Vox... I’m happy about it. And maybe Bambi, I can prove to ya that we can be more than just a game.” 

Val lays his own hand over the Deer’s on his face and strokes with his thumb over it, still tilting in the warm and gentle touch, and Alastor just smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was okayish XD. And even if not, I still will post the other days too. I also have some more stories and ideas for the time after this week. I can´t set a fixed day for the uploads, because life is not fair XP.  
> I have so much fun reading the awesome fanfics here and now to write my own too.


End file.
